Exiled: Kenly's Story (Talented Saga Book 5)

by Davis, Sophie

  James let his head fall back against the tree again. I felt the deep sigh rising up in his chest before I heard the sound of him letting it out. It was obvious that he was frustrated with the inability of words to convey the depth of his emotions, the exhaustion, and the rage, and the need. It had been psychological torture, even crueler than the physical sufferings they’d put his body through. Our Talents were a fundamental element of us, just as integral as an arm or leg. The loss of them was a pain I couldn’t fathom.

  Never in my life had I felt so much fury on behalf of another person. Honestly, I couldn’t recall ever being so angry for myself, and that was saying something. I wished that I could go back in time and demand the ability to manipulate minds from TOXIC. There was nothing I’d ever wanted as much as that, so I could erase every last trace of James’s time with the Monroes.

  Since that wasn’t an option, I extricated my fingers from his, wrapped both arms around his abdomen, and squeezed him as hard as I dared, longing to wring the memories right out of him. When he looked down at me, the faintest beginning of a wry smile was there, as if he understood what I was trying to do. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, I pulled back with a jerk, moving away so we weren’t touching at all and leaning against the rough bark once more.

  My awkwardness was rewarded with a full-on grin from James. For a moment I didn’t care about anything other than seeing him really smile again, even if from laughing at me. James reached over, snatched my hand back, and rested it in his lap, pulling me closer to him. Interlacing our fingers once more, he used the other hand to absently trace lazy patterns up and down my forearm, as though I was the one who needed comforting.

  As my heart ached for James and what he’d gone through, my brain plotted inventive ways to avenge the injustice. If we made it through the night, I was going to tell Riley to count me in for his Poacher hunting party.

  We spent several blissful minutes like that, no longer wanting or needing to talk, with only the trees shielding us from a potential combat zone.

  And then our small bit of peace was abruptly shattered.

  Somewhere in the distance, tires screeched as a road vehicle took a corner too fast. James’s platinum gaze found mine, his alarmed expression mirroring my own. He held one finger to his lips, as if I needed a reminder to stay quiet. Grabbing for me with his free hand, James pulled me over so that my back was flush against his chest.

  For the space of a single heartbeat, I weighed the pros and cons of using the little energy that had returned to mask both James and I in an invisible cocoon.

  The road vehicle was speeding up the street on the west side of the park, the side where we were most exposed.

  Do it. Do it now.

  With so many points of contact between our bodies, I didn’t exert nearly as much power as I’d previously needed to achieve an incorporeal state.

  “Kenly,” James protested into my ear.

  “Did you have a better idea?” I retorted in a sharp whisper. “Because just sitting here like idiots probably wasn’t going to work out so well.”

  The car flew by our hiding spot without slowing. I sagged with relief.

  Only to have my muscles go taut again when the vehicle made a U-turn up ahead.

  Now driving in the opposite direction, the car made a second pass.

  What the hell?

  I felt James’s sharp intake of breath as the vehicle made another U-turn.

  “Now is the time to run,” I whispered, pulling him to his feet, ready to take flight.

  The telltale hum of a newer-model hovercar sounded overhead. James wrapped his arms around my midsection again, tighter, successfully immobilizing me.

  “Listen to me, Kenly,” he breathed into my ear, voice calm and silky smooth with a hint of underlying desperation. “Remain invisible. And run. Get as far from here as possible. And then keep going. No matter what you hear or see, Kenly, do not come back. Promise me.”

  “No. Absolutely not,” I protested. “We remain invisible. We run. We get as far away from here as possible.”

  The road car halted outside the west entrance to the park.

  Behind me, James was vehemently shaking his head from side to side.

  “Bollocks. For Christ’s sake, listen to me. You will make it further on your own. You’ll be able to stay invisible longer. Together we don’t stand a bloody chance.”

  “Together is the only chance we have,” I insisted. “I won’t leave you.”

  The hovercar touched down by the East entrance.

  We were surrounded.

  With both teams unable to see us, I took the opportunity to go visible, to retain as much energy as possible for when we desperately needed it.

  “Go, now.” James shoved me forward. I clung desperately to his arm, determined not to let him slip through my grasp.

  “Damn it, Kenly,” James swore, yanking hard in an attempt to extricate himself from my grip.

  On both streets, vehicle doors flew open. Boots thumped against pavement as people exited the vehicles. The unmistakable sound of guns being cocked made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

  “They’re here,” a man’s voice called out. “Have me three heat signatures, two close at once in the northeast corner and one in the south.”

  Heat signatures? Shit. Were these UNITED agents? Who else would have the high-tech gadgets? And did he say three? There’d been someone else in the park the entire time? What, listening to James and me bicker? Listening to his story? I mentally kicked myself for not securing the area, checking to make sure we were alone.

  The grassy knoll was relatively small but not tiny, comprising a full square city block. Trees and hedges dotted the landscape, all providing decent hiding places. But when we listened and hadn’t heard any noises, I’d assumed the shadows were empty. Sloppy. I knew better than to assume.

  “Watch yourselves everyone,” a different voice added, this one young and female. “My readings are off the charts. We’re talking serious power.”

  James drew me in close again, wrapping his body protectively around mine as if to mask my essence in case one of the newcomers was a sensitive. Though I wanted to assure him, to convey that I was strong, an equal, my body denied my intentions. I clung to him. After everything I’d been through, the weeks of running, they’d found me. And I was terrified.

  “Poachers,” he whispered, his breath a warm caress on my cheek.

  “I don’t think so,” I whispered back. “I think it’s UNITED.”

  “Unfortunately, I recognize the girl’s voice. I’m certain of it, they’re Poachers.”

  I couldn’t decide which alternative was worse.

  Sweat poured down my back profusely, and I worried that I might slide right through James’s arms like a mud-covered pig. My heart hammered against my ribcage, trying to break free.

  Get yourself together. Now is not the time to freak out. You’ve been in more critical situations.

  And I had. The battle in D.C., for example. But even then, when death seemed a forgone conclusion, I hadn’t felt terror like this. I’d been oddly detached, gladly ready to accept whatever hand fate dealt me. Glad to give my life for the good of TOXIC. It had felt like nothing, like my service, my duty.

  Now, all I could think was, I am not ready to die. I don’t want to be a slave. I am not ready to die. I don’t want to be a slave.

  The mantra repeated over and over in my head until the words ran together, blurring into desperation.

  Then don’t! Get your ass in gear and prepare to fight! You are stronger than these people, whoever they are. You are faster. You are better. You are Created.

  I took a deep breath and pushed everything not related to an exit strategy out of my mind.

  Concentrate. Eight sets of footsteps total. Four on each side. Two on the right are lighter than the others, probably female. Uneven steps to the left, man’s limping slightly. Injury not severe but bad enough to change his gait. Exploitable weakness.

  The
west gate creaked open. Four shadows entered the park. Three were approximately the same height and one markedly smaller. They were moving slowly, methodically. Guns were raised as the swept the area for signs of life. In a couple more feet, I’d be able to make out their features.

  On the east side, the remaining Poachers filed through the entrance. Even though I was viewing them through gaps in the leaves, our hiding spot was much closer to the east gate and I had no trouble identifying four distinct silhouettes. All but one was heavy muscle. The type seen on professional wrestlers. Tall enough to dwarf an average human. The fourth man was equally as tall, but where the others were bulky with muscle, he was lean to the point of being gangly.

  “Here Chromies, Chromies, Chromies,” the young female voice sing-songed to my right. “Come out, come out wherever you are. Filthy twits.”

  “Do I perchance want to know our odds of us taking them on and coming out on top?” James whispered.

  “Probably not,” I admitted. “But I couldn’t tell you anyway. I don’t have enough information.”

  “Not one of the lot is a Chrome. Does that help?”

  You don’t have time to wonder how he knows that. Just add another tick in the column of his Talents, another question to the list.

  I’d already figured as much, since they were touting gadgets and guns, but the confirmation did slightly improve my outlook. Barely.

  “It helps,” I said. “It raises our chances from dismal to lousy.”

  The group of Poachers who’d come in through the east entrance were nearly on top of our hiding place. Of course, it had to be the big muscle. After just a couple more steps, they would be inside the tree alcove. The four approaching from the west had taken a detour towards the south side of the park in search of the other Talent.

  Excellent.

  “As soon as this lot comes round the tree, I say we make our move,” James muttered, his mouth so close to my ear now that his lips brushed the lobe. Had it been any other time, I would’ve found the touch incredibly distracting. “Remain invisible as long as possible. Keep them unwitting while you can. The element of surprise will be an asset we need. If we can fight our way past them, we might be able to leg it, reach the gate, and duck the others before they double back. Whatever you do, don’t let them get a shot off at you. The guns are most likely loaded with tranquilizer darts. The drugs will knock you unconscious before your head hits the grass.”

  As he spoke James unfurled one of his arms from my waist and awkwardly sought out the hem of my shirt. Stunned speechless, I tensed as his hand slid underneath my top—how long had it been since I carefully chose it for our date?—and closed around my hipbone.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Contact has to be skin to skin, right?”

  I felt my face grow hot and a pleasant tingling sensation skittered down my spine as his other hand came to rest on my stomach.

  “It does,” I managed, my mouth as dry as cotton.

  I considered pointing out the obvious—that he could have just moved his hands to my bare shoulders or somewhere else as equally benign. But the intimate contact gave me a thrill I’d never experienced before and, despite this being the absolute worst time and place for it, I savored every millisecond just in case this first time was the last time it happened.

  The gangly man was the first around the tree. In one hand he held a small pistol, in the other a flashlight that emitted a thin stream of blue light. The last threads of hope that I’d been clinging to broke. Light in that area of the spectrum was often used to see things that were otherwise invisible to the naked eye. Once his beam swept over us, James and my outlines would become visible and we’d lose our only advantage: surprise.

  I didn’t wait for that to happen.

  I exploded forward, hurtling towards Mr. Gangly. As I did, I diverted just enough energy to my Telekinesis to tear the pistol out of his hand, flinging it harmlessly off to the side. I came in low, shoulder dipped to ram the Poacher in the solar plexus.

  “Oomph,” he grunted when I made contact, stumbling backwards and falling to the ground with me on top.

  Flashlight still in hand, the man used it as a weapon, blindly aiming blows at a body he couldn’t see. One of his hits landed hard against my temple, causing stars to dance in my blurred vision.

  The other three Poachers in the group were surrounding us, tranquilizer guns bobbing and weaving as they tried to determine where my body was exactly, to get off a clear shot. Their reluctance was blatant, concerned about missing their target—me—and inadvertently hitting my opponent.

  While Gangly was feeling confident from his landed blow, I executed a textbook-perfect uppercut to the underside of his chin. His head snapped backwards, skull smacking into packed earth. Regrettably, he didn’t stay down for long.

  With the commotion of my surprise attack and facing a yet-unseen adversary, James had gone temporarily unnoticed. I’d provided enough of a distraction for James to slip around the trees and, using their shadows as cover, come up behind the other Poachers. Gangly was back up and hopping, and I was dodging jabs that were coming too close for comfort, when—

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  It was the wail heard around the world. The other two Poachers collapsed to their knees, arms flailing like weak branches in a tornado. One fell forward, landing on his face, torso bucking up and down like a puppet whose strings were being pulled. The other fell on his back, arms and legs akimbo.

  I’d seen James use his electrical powers before, but not nearly to this degree. Before, in the alleyway behind the Circus of Wonders, he’d merely stunned my attacker. This time, I’d be surprised if the men walked away without lasting damage. If they walked away at all. I couldn’t bring myself to feel even the slightest bit bad for them.

  James turned his attention to the lone man left near him. Despite having just witnessed his two friends being electrocuted, he wore a wicked grin that implied he knew something James did not. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to puzzle out what that something might be.

  I paid dearly for those moments my attention was diverted. The vertebrae in my neck popped and a second later my cheek was on fire. My opponent had backhanded me with enough force to leave an impression of his knuckles behind. I whimpered, palm flying instinctively to my face to assess the damage. A welt was blossoming over my cheekbone, but it didn’t appear as though he’d broken the skin. Thank goodness for small favors.

  “You ain’t nothin’ but a lil girl, are you now?” the gangly man said, grinning at me with red tinged teeth.

  The pain in my cheek suddenly felt much better, knowing that one of my blows had drawn his blood. Then, understanding dawned. He could see me. I was no longer invisible.

  Crap.

  I swung at my opponent, at the same time attempting to gather the energy needed to disappear from view again. He caught my fist inches from his face and twisted. Tears blurred my vision as the pain became excruciating. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think straight. As a result, I was unable to reach my Talents

  Fully able to be seen, I felt exposed, vulnerable, and less sure about my movements. Just a moment ago I’d had the upper hand, artfully dodging my attacker’s fists while managing to land several solid hits of my own. Now my maneuvers were awkward. The glancing blows that did make contact had little effect.

  My attacker flipped me like a rag doll, slamming my back into muddy grass. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out when my skull bounced off a knobby tree root. The man had ahold of my wrists now, pinning them both with one hand and reaching for something on his belt with the other.

  Moonlight glinted off of a thick, metal syringe as the Poacher placed the top between his yellowed teeth and pulled the cap free, revealing a large gauge needle beneath.

  “James!” I screamed his name at the top of my lungs. The gangly man was bent over top of me, his knees jammed into my thighs so that I couldn’t get a decent kick in. Frantic, I thrashed wildly underneath
of him like a fish out of water. Much as I wanted to close my eyes, I couldn’t seem to look away from the needle that was moving steadily towards my carotid artery.

  Tranquilizer. Don’t let that needle touch you. If you do, you’re done.

  “You bastard!” I hollered, doubling my efforts to break free.

  The Poacher scoffed. He was too strong.

  You are stronger. You are faster. You are Created. You can get away from him. Don’t you dare give up.

  The needle pricked the skin over my throat, bearing down into my vein.

  No! Do something!

  I stopped struggling entirely, instead channeling my energy towards my Telekinesis. The man’s face split into another toothy grin as his thumb started to push the plunger, a hummingbird’s wing flap from dispensing the sedative into my bloodstream. Several cold, metallic-feeling drops leaked out before I summoned enough strength to tear the syringe from his grasp, sending it sailing backwards. The pointy end struck the gangly man just below his Adam’s apple. With my mind I slammed the plunger all the way down.

  The Poacher stared at his empty hand, his disbelieving expression almost comical. A single blink ago the syringe had been in his hand, and now it was dangling from his throat, empty.

  “Why, you daft lil’ bitch,” he wheezed, just before his eyes rolled back in his head. One hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight landed on top of me, knocking the wind from my lungs for a second time.

  “Kenly! Bloody hell, are you alright?” James’s worried voice was music to my ears. When he’d failed to respond to my screams earlier, I’d assumed the worst.

  “I’m okay,” I grunted. “You?”

  James didn’t answer as he rolled the Poacher off of me and then hauled me to my feet with one hand. I gave him a quick once over. His button down was now open, the two halves flapping like birds wings when he moved. A crimson smear ran across his well-defined stomach muscles, but there was no visible cut. The blood was not his. The right side of his mouth was swollen and the skin over his jaw was already in the early stages of bruising.